


Mario saves the princess

by RexxieRoulette



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Getting Together, M/M, Miscommunication, Panic Attacks, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 04:08:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16757386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RexxieRoulette/pseuds/RexxieRoulette
Summary: “We could be like, sexy firemen dude?” Mark shook his head so fast his vision went blurry for a second.“That’s a hard no for me.” Jackson pouted, putting the costume back before searching again.“Oh, what about this?” Mark glanced over and nearly doubled over in laughter. Jackson was holding up a neon pink speedo, wiggling his eyebrows in a seductive manor, failing miserably to hold back his own laughter.“Jackson no.”“Jackson yes!”





	Mario saves the princess

**Author's Note:**

> Another request, another one shot. If anyone wants something written, just hit me up on tumblr or comment something!

“Are you gonna go to the Halloween dance dude?”

 

Mark shrugged in response, eyes scanning his phone as he scrolled. Jackson shifted beside him before huffing. “C’mon! I need a wing man dude!” Mark glanced at him sideways, quirking a brow and pursing his lips. Jackson was using his puppy dog eyes, all big and round and impossible to say no to.

 

Mark groaned, “Why though? You have enough charm to get any girl.”

 

Jackson smirked, then winked. “Because I need to play hard to get, and it won’t work if I don’t have someone there to keep up the antics.” Mark felt Jackson lean his head on his shoulder and he groaned again. “Plus I wanna get drunk and have fun with my best friend.”

 

Mark scoffed, pushing Jackson’s head away, “It’s a school sanctioned event, meaning no alcohol, dummy.” He flicked the youngers forehead before squealing at the jab he sent to Mark’s ribs.

 

“Do you honestly think it will be a dry event man? C’mon, don’t you have faith in J Flawless?” Jackson flexed, expression a mixture of something akin to pain and constipation.

 

“Yeah yeah.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So are we going to wear matching costumes bro?”

 

Mark shrugged, fingers running over the various costumes hanging around them, eyes scanning the props and accessories littering the walls. “We could be knights?” He held up a crown, placing it haphazardly on his head and smirking. “What do ya think?”

 

Jackson tilted his head, eyes narrowing in thought before he shook his head. “Nah, looks too girly. Next thing girls will be asking if we have special powers and stuff.” Mark scoffed, tossing the crown to the side. He continued looking while Jackson rambled. “We could be like, sexy firemen dude?” Mark shook his head so fast his vision went blurry for a second.

 

“That’s a hard no for me.” Jackson pouted, putting the costume back before searching again.

 

“Oh, what about this?” Mark glanced over and nearly doubled over in laughter. Jackson was holding up a neon pink speedo, wiggling his eyebrows in a seductive manor, failing miserably to hold back his own laughter.

 

“Jackson no.”

 

“Jackson yes!”

 

Mark shakes his head, laughter dying on his lips as he looks around once more. A costume sticking out caught his eye. “Hey Jacks, what about this?” Jackson finished his coughing fit from laughing so hard before turning to look at Mark, eyes blown wide as he spots what he’s holding. In Mark’s hands were two costumes, almost identical, just different colors. One red overalls, the other green. “We could be Mario and Luigi!” Mark was almost bouncing with excitement, balancing on the balls of his feet.

 

Jackson jerked his head in a nod, then ran over and grabbed the green suit, looking around dramatically for the matching hat. “I call dibs on Luigi!”

 

“Awe! But I wanted to be Luigi!” Mark whines, smile fading.

 

“Yeah but you’re shorter than me, so you gotta be the short one!” Jackson smirked, hands finding purchase on the hats.

 

“And the fat one.”

 

“Oh my god you are not fat Mark! Now stop. These are perfect. Let’s go!” Jackson yanks Mark to the register, charming up the cashier enough to barker a tiny deal on her. Mark watched idly, bored of the conversation but too nice to pull out his phone and pretend he wasn’t listening. He decided to count the dots on the wall beside the cashier’s face until Jackson finished flirting, but when both sets of eyes turned in his direction, Mark blinked twice before turning to Jackson, quirking a brow.

 

“Huh?”

 

“I said!” Jackson huffs, glaring slightly. “It’d be nice if this here beauty could come with us to the dance, don’t ya think?” Jackson winked at her, her cheeks dusted pink and she smiled.

 

“Uh? I guess?” Mark squinted at her name tag, “Momo can come if she wants.” Mark didn’t miss the smile that falter, nor did he miss the hurt that crossed her features quickly, before she hid them behind her hand. He shrugged a shoulder, eyes downcast as Jackson kneed him lightly.

 

“Great! You wanna come then?” Jackson inquired, fingers dancing on the counter between them. The girl – Momo – blushed red, before biting her lip and nodding slightly. “Awesome! I’ll text you the details.” With that, Jackson grabbed Mark’s wrist, spun him on his heels, and all but stormed out of the costume shop. When they were a healthy distance away, Mark wretched his wrist free and rubbed in gently, soothing the red mark slowly.

 

“What was that for you asshole?” Mark snarled, glaring.

 

“What do you mean me? What about you!” Jackson shouted back, taking a step in. “I did everything to set you up with a date for this stupid dance, and all you had to do was smile and say yes!” Jackson threw his hands in the air.

 

“You know very well I don’t _like_ girls! Why the fuck are you trying to set me up with one?” Mark bit back, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly.

 

Jackson groaned. “In the 8 years that I have known you man, I have seen absolutely NO guys that you have even remotely showed interest in!” Jackson shook his head, glaring. “I’m beginning to think you’re not homosexual, but rather asexual.”

 

Mark reeled back, eyes wide as hurt flashed across his features. Jackson’s eyes went wide, mouth opening and closing quickly.

 

“Wait – that came out wrong. I jus- I meant..” Jackson fumbled with his words, fingers reaching for Mark’s already retreating form.

 

“Save it.” Mark spat before turning on his heel and taking off in the other direction, ignoring the calls from Jackson behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

Mark slumped into the empty chair, heart still pounding, head reeling and mind a mess. He was angry at Jackson, angry at himself for freaking out so badly, but Jackson didn’t have to make such a rude comment. It wasn’t Mark’s fault he hadn’t found a guy he really liked, at least not romantically. Other than Jackson, but that was over a long time ago, and now he was just his best friend.

 

Maybe Jackson was right?

 

“Can we sit here?”

 

Mark jumped at the voice, biting his tongue to avoid screeching out. He scanned the trio standing off to the side of his small table, eyeing each of them wearily. The middle one – the one Mark assumed had talked – was smiling. It was the kind of smile that lit up a room, the kind that everyone was drawn to, and was contagious enough to cause others to smile just because _this guy_ had. Mark allowed a small smile to cut through his scowl, glancing at the two flanking sunshine smile boy, noting how _tall_ they all looked. The one to the left was looking around, a little closed off in comparison to the middle boy, but still just as interesting. He had a cup cradled in his hands while he waited, switching from glaring at Mark to scanning the room.

 

Mark’s gaze trailed over the _still_ smiling middle boy to the one flanking on his right and halted. This boy was _beautiful_. Mark stared, trying with all his might not to drop his jaw as his eyes scanned over every tiny feature on the boys face. He had his hair styled up, exposing his entire face to the public. His eyes were dark, narrowed slightly in frustration? Maybe annoyance? Maybe even _embarrassment?_ Mark held back a bark of laughter as he continued watching, waiting. The boy had two tiny moles just over his left eye, and Mark couldn’t look away.

 

Then the middle boy cleared his throat, smile straining slightly. “So?”

 

Mark blanked. _Fuck_. “Uh, I g-guess?” He sputtered, frowning when he fumbled over his words. His eyes downcast as the trio exclaim excitedly and scatter to sit around the table, pulling out chairs and placing random drinks and snacks haphazardly around the small table.

 

“My name is Youngjae, what’s yours?” The smiling boy – _Youngjae_ – said, reaching a hand out to shake Marks. Mark took it slowly, retreating his fingers after a quick up and down with the brush of their palms.

 

“Mark.”

 

The boy to Youngjae’s left was frowning again, eyeing Mark darkly. “This is Jinyoung.” Youngjae added a few seconds of them glaring at one another, Jinyoung’s fingers tightening around his cup.

 

“Pleasure.” Jinyoung tilted his head down in a half attempt to nod. Mark nodded back, keeping his eyes trained on the others.

 

Then Youngjae made a large sweeping motion to the boy to his left – _the beautiful boy_ Mark’s mind supplied, much to his dismay. “And this is Jaebum!” Youngjae was grinning from ear to ear, like he had a secret to the whole universe in his pocket.

 

The _beautiful boy –_ Jaebum nodded his head in greeting, much less malice and cold demeanor than Jinyoung. Mark smiled, nodding in his direction and glancing down at his own cup quickly, hoping to hide the slight pink tinging his cheeks from seeing Jaebum’s smile.

 

Youngjae seemed to _really_ like to talk though, because the silence that enveloped their table was soon filled with random chit chat from the singular boy, completely filled by _only_ his voice and boisterous laughter. Mark sat on his side of the table, shifting around to get comfortable from sitting for so long, enjoying watching Youngjae interact with the other two males. Jinyoung – to Mark’s surprise – was actually really nice. He just had a cold front that he put up for strangers. Mark held his tongue when Jinyoung made an off comment about certain opinions, but other than that, he seemed to really enjoy listening to his banter with Youngjae.

 

Jaebum on the other hand, was just as silent – if not more – than Mark was. He would smile, laugh, and add his random comments into the banter of his friends, but never supplied more than just a sentence or short few seconds of chuckling to the raising volume of their table. Mark was intrigued at his closed off image, trying to figure out the small details without asking, trying to solve the impossible puzzle that was Jaebum without so much as muttering a word.

 

Not that Mark wasn’t talking. Youngjae asked him a million and one questions, most of which he answered with simple, one word answers, but Youngjae was never deterred.

 

“So Mark, do you have a girlfriend?” Jinyoung randomly asked.

 

Mark stiffened, back straight as a board as he flushed. It’s not that he was embarrassedto be gay, nor did he take anyone’s shit for it at his school – where he was openly out – but he didn’t outright flaunt it, especially to strangers.

 

_Or incredibly hot guys_ Mark’s brain added, making his cheeks flush red. “Uh – I um.” Mark stuttered, fingers curling into fists under the table. “No.” He finally shot out, staring at a piece of mismatched tile on the flooring. Who puts a random blue piece of tile in with the black and white that cover the _entire_ rest of the cafe? Sociopaths, that’s who.

 

“Why not?” It was Jaebum who asked, and Mark flinched at his voice breaking him out of his thoughts.

 

“Um. Personal reasons?” He blurted it out like a question, internally scolding himself for how his voice wavered.

 

“Like what?” Jinyoung asked, an eyebrow quirked in question.

 

“Geez guys! It doesn’t matter why Mark doesn’t have a girlfriend! Just leave him alo-” Youngjae started to say, but Mark cut him off with a quick and quiet, “I’m gay.”

 

A collective three sets of eyes blinked slowly at him, widened in shock? Disgust? Intrigue? Mark couldn’t quite figure out their reactions. Youngjae’s mouth was opening and closing, like he wanted to say _something_ , but couldn’t put his thoughts into words. Jinyoung had his eyes narrowed, almost glaring at Mark like he held a sword to his baby.

 

On the other hand, Jaebum looked shocked. Eyes wide and ears tinged pink, Mark was curious as to why, but before he could tame his brain to figure out why, his mind went into overdrive and panic began to seep in quickly.

 

He didn’t truly care what they thought, at least not outwardly. He’d stuck to his _“I don’t give a shit”_ attitude when it came to his sexuality when he was 14 and figured out boys were more attractive than girls in his eyes. So he wasn’t ever ashamed or thrown off by the comments people made, the _looks_ people shot his way when he openly talked about the newest _male_ idol he was obsessed about. The only person who seemed to genuinely enjoy being around him though, was Jackson. And his mind wandered back to the argument he’d had with the younger earlier that day, and his chest felt tight and constricted, pain blooming where his heart was beating.

 

He shouldn’t let the opinion of these three strangers stagger his self image to this point, but the looks they were shooting him _hurt_ , and it burned his skin where Jinyoung was glaring daggers. It staggered his breathing when Youngjae continued to look like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth rapidly in hopes of finding any words to say, to ease the tension falling over them like a suffocating blanket. He tried not to think about how Jaebum’s reaction was the most stable, the most _calm_ in comparison to his companions, but from Mark’s experience, calm reactions tended to be a time bomb. Slowly ticking away to an outright explosion of hatred, malice, anger.

 

Mark didn’t stick around to wait for the bomb to go off.

 

He’d stood with the screech of his chair legs dragging against the tiled floor, stuttering a quick goodbye, an exchange of normalcy with Youngjae – who seemed to regain his voice long enough to mutter a quiet goodbye to the older – before he took off out of the door in a frenzy, breathing rapidly and clutching his chest tight.

 

Mark pulled out his phone quickly, numb fingers dialing before his brain could process what he was really doing. He picked up on the second ring, voice still dripping with remnants of their past argument.

 

“What Mark?”

 

Mark’s breathing was ragged, sharp intakes followed by quick exhales, in and out, fast and unsteady. “ _Jacks_.” He croaked out, before collapsing onto a nearby set of stairs, head between his knees as he counted down slowly.

 

“Mark? MARK? Where are you?! You gotta tell me man.” Mark could hear Jackson hurriedly shuffling on the other end of the receiver, more than likely trying to find his keys in his mess of snap backs and jeans littering his room. “Talk to me man. Mark?” He was worried, the tension in his voice was palpable.

 

Mark winced at his voice when he choked out a sob. “I’m outside, uptown somewhere?” He spared a quick glance around, flinching at the pedestrians passing by and shooting him a flurry of different glances. “It hurts Jacks.”

 

“I know it does baby, but you gotta keep breathing. I’m on my way.” Mark heard the engine ignite from the phone, a small smile breaking through as he heard Jackson cursing at random drivers. “Stay on the line, ok? I’ll be there soon.”

 

Mark stayed still, fingers clutched tightly around the device as he listened to Jackson continue to swear at other drivers, no doubt breaking traffic laws in the process of getting to him. He tried to count down in his head, but he couldn’t focus long enough to keep track. He then tried to slow his breathing, but anytime he held his breath to keep the deep inhale, he began to panic worse. It was an endless cycle of hell.

 

“Are you ok?”

 

Mark jumped at the voice, ignoring his phone long enough to look up and catch the gaze of the stranger who talked.

 

_Except it wasn’t a stranger, not really anyway._ Jaebum stood a few feet away, eyes wide as he noticed who was curled up in a ball on the steps to his fathers business building. “Mark?”

 

“Jaebum?” Mark stood abruptly, shooting his head back and forth in hopes of catching sight of Jackson’s car pulling up.

 

“Mark, are you ok?” Jaebum took a step forward, but halted in his tracks when Mark retreated two steps back.

 

Mark’s cheeks burned, from both his tears and embarrassment. He kept looking away, down the street on either side or to the ground to stare at his feet. Why, of all people, does it have to be Jaebum that finds him like this? The incredibly hot, incredibly awkward guy he met like 2 hours prior? Mark inwardly groaned, wishing he’d walked just a little further down the street before collapsing into a panic. But how had he known Jaebum would find him like this?

 

_At least it wasn’t Jinyoung_ , Mark’s brain added, igniting an angry growl to escape before he could stop it.

 

“Sorry.” Jaebum’s voice broke through the water in his ears. Snapping his attention up to the other, Mark noted Jaebum had his hands up in surrender, like Mark was a wild animal ready to bolt. “I didn’t mean to disturb you?” He said it like a question, like Mark was going to _answer him_ or something.

 

Which he did anyway.

 

“It’s fine.” He tried not to smile at how stable his voice sounded, considering he was _still_ in the midst of a panic attack that _Jaebum_ and his friends had caused. “Why are you here?”

 

Jaebum looked taken aback for a second, before abruptly folding his arms over his chest. “I was going to work, and I saw someone crying on the steps.” He huffed, rolling his eyes. “How was I supposed to know it was you?”

 

Mark flinched, retracting another step away from the other. “Sorry.”

 

Jaebum frowned, watching the other shrink further back was unnerving. “Look, I’m sorry. If we caused what happened back there? If I caused _this_ -” he motioned to Mark’s previous spot, “- then I’m really sorry.” He seemed to think for a minute before adding, “Jinyoung is actually not a dick, so if you hate him, please don’t.”

 

Mark exhaled, eyes frantically searching the street again as he processed the words. “It’s normal reactions I get when I tell people, I don’t really care.” He lied, because he _always_ cared, at least a little. His hands were shaking at his sides and he tried not to think too much about what transpired earlier.

 

“Look,” Jaebum’s voice pulled him back to the present again. “I didn’t get the chance to say anything back there, but uh,” He scratched the back of his head, cheeks dusted pink. _Oh no_. This was it huh? This was where the names were coming, this was where Mark would feel the brunt end of the hatred and repulsion from others who didn’t quite understand his sexuality. “I um – I’m also-”

 

“MARK!” Jackson’s shrill cry broke through the rising tension, Mark jolting at the sudden shouting. He shot his gaze over to the right, where Jackson was barreling through a large portion of random people. He looked frantic, almost as frazzled as Mark felt.

 

Mark’s breathing picked up again, before he dropped to his knees and began to hyperventilate. A pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders easily, huge and impending in comparison to his tiny, lean frame. “Mark, shh. I got you. Just breathe, ok?” Jackson’s soothing voice was shuddering, uneven and choppy from his own rapid breathing. Mark nodded, clutching Jackson’s bicep and bowing his head to hide his new tears.

 

“Mark?” Jaebum tried again, voice smaller than before, edged with something akin to worry? No. What would he be worried about? Mark felt Jackson stiffened around him, a low snarl escaping his lips before Mark could stop him.

 

“Who the hell are you?” Jackson spat, shielding Mark’s shaking body beneath his. “Are you the one who did this to Mark?”

 

Mark flinched at the gasp from Jaebum, hiccuping on his own gasp from the harsh lacing Jackson’s voice.

 

“I might have?” Jaebum replied, voice low and wavering. He sounded nervous, and, considering he was on the receiving end of Jackson’s glare and malice, Mark could understand why anyone would be nervous.

 

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Jackson growled, tightening his grip around Mark. Mark in turn, tried to wiggle out of his grasp, to alleviate the pressure on his ribs and ease his breathing, but he just _couldn’t_ move very well trapped under Jackson’s expanse of muscle. His panic wasn’t dying down either, because Jaebum was taking on a darker glint in his eye, glaring at the pair now.

 

“Jacks.” Mark tried, prying his arm up to cup the side of Jackson’s face, trying – and _failing –_ to pull his attention away from Jaebum. “ _Gaga_.” Jackson snapped his head to Mark at the nickname, smiling small when he noticed Mark’s hooded eyes pleading with his own. “Can we just go home?”

 

Jackson thought for a second, thoroughly trying to figure out if he wanted to punch Jaebum or just walk away. Mark knew he was having an internal battle, so he battled his own demons long enough to jerk his head up and place a chaste kiss on Jackson’s tense cheek, breaking his focus to blink down at the older. “Please Jacks.”

 

Jackson resigned, huffing before shooting another glare at Jaebum, standing up and helping Mark stand slowly, a hand resting low on his back to supply ample amounts of support for his still shaking body. As he helped Mark to his car, Mark spared one last glance behind him, watching as Jaebum stood there, glaring at the pair like they burned the whole world down. Mark shivered and turned back, choosing to ignore the pain in his chest.

 

* * *

 

 

“Jackson! Let’s go! It’s about time for the party to start!” Mark shouted, ignoring the glare from the other as he continued to stare at his reflection in the mirror. “Come on Jacks! You have a fake mustache on! No one is gonna know its you. Stop freaking about your damn face.”

 

Jackson huffed, before shrugging and grabbing his keys quickly. “Hurry up Mario, before you become Princess Peach and become even more of a diva.” For lack of his better judgment, Mark barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he made his way to Jackson’s car. “Plus I’m sure _everyone_ is gonna know it’s me under this thing.” Jackson wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, barking out a laugh when Mark shook his head.

 

“Lets just go Luigi.”

 

* * *

 

 

Mark and Jackson waltzed through the propped open doors, strutting around like they owned the place – which, if you ask basically anyone who went to their school, they did. Jackson spotted a few girls he’d hooked up with before, nodding in their direction and smirking when they blushed, squealing between one another. Mark winked, earning another set of giggles.

 

“I don’t know how they still freak when you pay attention to them.” Jackson piped up, shaking his head and chuckling.

 

Mark shrugged, “Maybe they just love the idea of a guy they can’t have?” Jackson laughed, hearty and loud, as they walked further into the room. With a quick glance around, Mark noted how expansive and _full_ the room already was. Bodies everywhere, costumes of every sort, from half naked sexualized animals to dorky attempts at serial killers with masks. Mark noticed a small cluster of guys standing off to the side, 4 or 5 of them standing idly around, drinks in hand and talking randomly. He couldn’t figure out why he was drawn to them, but something seemed familiar about them, at least some of them anyway. Did they go to his school? He didn’t recall seeing them specifically. Hmm.

 

“Hey Jacks?” Mark voiced out, leaning his head against Jackson’s shoulder. Jackson hummed in response, gaze still wandering the expanse of bodies. “Is this just our school? There’s people I don’t recognize here.”

 

Jackson turned, looking around in surprise, eyes catching on a few random students that were definitely _not_ apart of their school. “Maybe? I could go ask Jae. He is a senior.” Mark shook his head, choosing better to ignore the random few strangers and opting to try and have fun. He did love to dance, so being able to do so freely was something that got his blood pumping.

 

“Just forget about it Jacks, lets go dance, ok?” Mark all but pulled Jackson to the middle of the dance floor, laughing when Jackson started off with a dab, scrunching his face up in an adorable chipmunk looking Luigi. They danced for what felt like forever, from fast and stupid dances that included copious amounts of dabs and shuffling, to slower dances where they spent most of their time tricking in a confined space.

 

Mark had just grounded from a flip, the growing crowd around the duo clapping and hollering. Jackson was beaming, working the crowd and flirting with every girl in the vicinity. Mark stabled, breathing heavy as he smiled wide, enjoying himself more than he thought he would. He scanned the crowd, smirking and throwing winks around at random girls who waved, causing them to squeal or giggle.

 

Till his eyes landed on a pair staring directly at him.

 

Mark halted as he caught their gaze, dark eyes hidden under a mask – it was one of those doll like masks people wore in the Purge movies, and it honestly made Mark a little uncomfortable. A prickle of recollection worked its way up his nape as he continued to stare, body still buzzing with energy from dancing and flipping around. He’d seen those eyes somewhere before, but he just couldn’t pinpoint where exactly. It was making Mark anxious, squirming under the watchful eye of the masked man.

 

“Heyo Markiepooh.” Jackson’s voice cut through the thoughts, jerking Mark’s attention back to the surrounding crowd. “Why the hold up?” Mark was turned around, a beaming smile on Jackson’s face as he went back to pleasing the crowd.

 

Shaking his head and regaining focus, Mark began to dance again, failing to shake the feeling of that particular set of eyes watching his every move.

 

* * *

 

 

“Care to dance?”

 

Mark shot his head up in an instant, eyes wide as he took in the person before him. The masked man from earlier stood before him, arms crossed and posture waiting. Had Mark been able to see his face, he’d probably have a knowing smirk on his lips. His voice sounded eerily familiar, but Mark couldn’t figure it out, so he carved a false smile on his face and shook his head, the uncomfortable tingling creeping up his neck at the proximity. Why did this guy seem so… _known_ to Mark?

 

Masked man tilted his head, booing under his sigh. “Come on, just one dance.” He held out a hand, bowing slightly towards Mark.

 

Flushing at the gesture, Mark looked away, trying – and _failing –_ to ignore the man before him. “Why do you want to dance with me?” Thankful his voice didn’t waver as much as he thought it would, Mark stared at an object just past the man, hoping that having something to pinpoint his focus on would stop his nerves from setting on fire every minute longer this conversation went. Seriously though, what was _up_ with this dude? “Who are you anyway?”

 

The masked man chuckled, low and grovely like his voice was unused or thick with sleep. It sang through Mark’s ears like a siren’s song, so beautiful and enchanting. Mark bit his lip at the thought, watching as the other tilted his head the other direction, watching him carefully with those dark eyes.

 

_Fuck it_

 

Mark didn’t respond, just simply walked away, towards the middle of the dance floor, hoping the mystery man caught his cue and followed. When he made it to the center, where the brunt of bodies lay moving to the beat of whatever upbeat song is blasting through the speakers, Mark felt a hand on his hip, and a strong chest against his back. Smirking like a mad man, Mark leaned back into the touch, wiggling his hips along with the beat and holding back a laugh at the low groan from the man behind him.

 

“You don’t need to know my identity tonight babe, just relax and have fun.” Masked man whispered in his ear from where he stood behind Mark, sending chills down his spine and a haze to fill his mind.

 

Mark didn’t reply, just bit his lip and nodded, letting his head fall back onto the shoulder of his dance partner.

  

* * *

 

 

“What are you doing?” Mark snapped to attention at the sound of Jackson’s voice, raised high enough to be heard clear over the pounding music. Looking over, Mark caught sight of his friend just a few feet away, hands curled into fists and cheeks red from adrenaline? No, maybe agitation? Mark couldn’t quite tell, couldn’t quite figure out how much time had passed since he’d begun dancing with the masked man.

 

“Jacks, relax. I’m just dancing.” Mark replied, still swinging his hips to the music. The man behind him tensed, fingers on Mark’s hip tightening slightly.

 

Jackson shot him a glare, before his gaze honed in on the fingers splayed across Mark’s hip. Jackson reached forward, clasping a large hand over Mark’s frail wrist and _yanking_ the older back towards him, arms going around his waist easily to keep him steady. “I thought I told you earlier to leave Mark alone.” Jackson disregarded Mark’s earlier statement, anger seething through his slight buzz in bright colors.

 

“We were just dancing.” Masked man reiterated, hands up in mock surrender. “I just wanted to talk to Mark.”

 

Mark blanked at the response. When had he given this guy his name? From the earlier conversation with the guy, Mark could only recall answering the basic question of who his costume was of, and if he wanted to dance. Nothing about his name was mentioned, at least not directly.

 

Jackson’s grip went tighter, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough to him?”

 

“What?”

 

Both parties seemed to be on ‘ignore Mark’s responses’ mode, because neither answered, just stood at equal distances, glaring down at one another. “I _didn’t_ do anything to him.”

 

Jackson lurched forward, pushing Mark behind him slightly. “Bullshit!” Jackson’s voice was raised in a booming shout, attracting the attention of countless onlookers and equally as many phones no doubt set to record. Mark pulled back on Jackson’s sleeve, helplessly ignored by the others.

 

“Jacks, lets just go, ok?”

 

“You’re the cause of one of his _worst_ panic attacks in months!” Mark halted his movements at that, eyes widening at the insinuation, before jaw dropping at the recollection.

 

“Jaebum?”

 

Masked man – _Jaebum_ – sighed, before peeling his mask away from his face gently. He looked sheepish without the cover, less arrogant and smug, more reserved and nervous. Those same dark eyes held countless emotions, swirling within them easily and staring at Mark even easier. “I really did want to apologize. Can we talk?”

 

Mark tightened his grip on Jackson’s arm, pulling him back slightly before he tried to get physical.

 

“Please.”

 

“He doesn’t want to talk to you!” Jackson spat back, stepping closer and ruining all the progress Mark made at getting them _out_ of the spotlight.

 

“Jacks.” Mark pulled back again, but when Jackson stood his ground and dug his feet in, Mark heaved a heavy sigh. “ _Gaga_.”

 

Jackson’s shoulders tensed as he jerked his chin over his shoulder, watching Mark with a set of eyes swirling with various emotions. He looked incredulous, like he couldn’t believe Mark’s willingness to just _walk away_. “Seriously?”

 

Mark nodded. “Let’s go Jackson.” He didn’t wait for a response, just turned on his heel and left the building, not worried about whether Jackson was even following him or not.

 

* * *

 

 

“Can we talk?”

 

Mark looked up at the voice, pursing his lips when he caught sight of Youngjae standing a mere few feet away from his table. He was back at the cafe he’d met Youngjae – and in turn, where he first met Jaebum, and Jinyoung. Not the same table, but it’s small enough to notice him if you were looking. _Not that he was hiding or anything_ , his brain supplied. Mark inwardly groaned before plastering a tight smile and nodding his head at the chair across from him. “What can I do for you?”

 

Youngjae seemed tense. On edge, like he was waiting for something, or someone hurt his dog. “I wanted to apologize.”

 

Mark froze, unsure. “Why? You did nothing wrong.” It wasn’t a lie, Youngjae didn’t do anything but be friendly and engaging during their last encounter. So why was he apologizing?

 

Youngjae shrugged, chewing his lower lip. “Jaebum told me about what happened uh.. _after_ you left.” He glanced up, watching Mark’s reaction before continuing.

 

_Oh._

 

“I just wanted to make sure you knew how sorry I was.” He took a deep breath, eyes downcast. Mark winced at the outright sorrowful expression marring Youngjae’s features, heart strings pulling at the downward frown on his lips. Youngjae was smiles and sunshine, not sadness and the moon. “If I did anything to cause that, then I am greatly sorry. Please forgive me.”

 

Mark reached a hand across the table, placing it haphazardly on Youngjae’s fingers, before pulling away slightly. “You didn’t cause it Youngjae, no need to worry. Things just happen.” Mark tried to make his voice uplifting, but the whole ordeal was weighing on his heart heavily. It was hard, but not impossible. “Did Jaebum say anything else?” It was a loaded question to ask, because more than likely Youngjae will tell Jaebum he asked, but Mark’s nerves were so shot he just didn’t care anymore.

 

Youngjae quirked a brow, head tilted. “No, why?”

 

Mark ignored the painful lurch in his chest, deciding it’s for the better. “No reason.”

  

* * *

 

 

“Jackson.”

 

Mark bit his tongue, hoping to bring back the words that are dying to spill from his lips, but Jackson’s already looking at him expectantly. With a dejected sigh, Mark hung his head. “Don’t hate me.”

 

Jackson’s fingers were dancing along the muscles on Mark’s shoulder, squeezing slightly as he spoke. “Why would I hate you?”

 

“Because I think I finally found someone.”

 

Jackson’s fingers froze, tensing. Mark felt the air shift, felt how tense Jackson’s muscular frame was. He dreaded telling him, but he knew there was no way he’d be ok with it if Mark did something before telling him. So here they sat, side by side, tension so palpable you could cut it with a butter knife, and Mark could feel the prickle of panic creeping up his spine.

 

“Is it that guy from the dance?” Jackson’s voice was weak, no longer the strong, loud and energetic puppy he normally tried to be. Mark nodded, not trusting his voice. Jackson sighed. “Why him? Of everyone? Why the one who caused the panic attack of the century for you?” His tone was biting, but Jackson’s gaze held a pleading tone, unsure and wanting validation.

 

Mark shook his head. “Jaebum didn’t cause that. He took part in the conversation, yes. But it was Jinyoung’s comments that triggered me.” Jackson blinked, before hanging his head. “You couldn’t have known Gaga, don’t beat yourself up.”

 

“But I was such a dick to him.” Jackson retorted, twisting his fingers together in his lap. Mark bit his lip and reached out, tangling their fingers together to stop Jackson. “I should apologize.”

 

“I should too.” Mark thought for a second, before shaking his head slightly. “But I have no idea where to find him.”

  

* * *

 

 

Mark sat in the same spot, at the same cafe, that he’d met Youngjae in those long weeks ago. It’d been over two months since that day, since he was blessed with such an amazing friend.

 

_And meeting Jaebum_ , his brain supplied, but he promptly ignored. Mark hadn’t seen or talked to Jaebum since the night of the party. He’d finally talked to Youngjae about his ordeal, all that happened, and reveled in how relieved the other looked at finding someone to for his “precious Jaebummie.” Youngjae had mentioned that Jaebum regulars this particular cafe every week to study or just relax. So Mark started attending the quaint place on a weekly basis.

 

Then on a daily basis.

 

For weeks this went by. Sometimes Youngjae would join him, other times it was just Jackson. Sometimes it was all 3, and Mark would be laughing so hard he’d have tears spilling.

 

But never once had Jaebum shown.

 

Mark was growing impatient, eyes always scanning the room thoroughly before taking his – _regular –_ seat, always snapping to attention when the little bell from the door went off. It was unhealthy, to say the least. But Mark was desperate.

 

For what though? He couldn’t tell you. Jaebum was different than other guys he’d met before, different in a way that seemed almost entirely unnatural.

 

Mark was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of the chair across from him moving, the legs screeching slightly against the tiled flooring. Mark looked up, eyes going wide as his breath caught in his throat. Weeks of waiting, weeks of painful awareness that he messed up and the constant thought he might not get to fix his mistakes was all through out the window at the sight before him.

 

Jaebum smiled down at him, before jerking his thumb at the chair, quirking a brow. “Can I sit with you?”

 

Mark had never nodded yes so vigorously in his entire life.

 


End file.
